


Precious and Fragile Things

by ab2fsycho



Series: Hold My Tea and Watch This [12]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Pitch can be pretty sentimental, Recovery, Trauma, and possessive, but we knew that, starting to feel normal again, still sucking at tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is slowly recovering from the attack. Pitch is a master of looming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious and Fragile Things

**Author's Note:**

> I like Depeche Mode's song "Precious" for this. Tis the origin of the title. Unfortunately, I have to try not to hear things in Gollum's voice.

Since waking up, Jack felt like he was lost between terrified to close his eyes and terrified to open them. He feared moving, and so hadn’t left the bed even when he knew his legs were good and well. Sometimes, if he kept his eyes closed for too long, he felt himself being grabbed up by rough fingers again. If he left his eyes open for too long, though, he started picking apart his environment to the point that he made everything into a potential peril. Every breath of air felt like it was going to be his last, every touch felt threatening, and every shadow seemed suspect. The only real protection he felt he had against the shadows stemmed from the constant presence of the Nightmare King. While still technically an enemy to the Guardians, he was currently Jack’s greatest ally and the source of Jack’s comfort. At this point, Jack stopped questioning whether he really should put his faith in Pitch. He just did, and that was that. If the Boogeyman harbored any lasting grudges against Jack that should surface, he had had every opportunity to act on them. Being the embodiment of fear, he could have exploited Jack’s current situation very easily. Instead, he was trying to drive away the fear and ease the young Guardian’s pain. For that, Jack was more than grateful.

His ever-present Boogeyman never left. He was always in the room, silently watching or guarding Jack. Even with the other Guardians coming in and out to check on him, Pitch never left. The Guardians seemed to have grown tolerant of their enemy’s constant hovering, which made Jack feel a bit better about the situation. Even Bunny was enduring.

Jack honestly didn’t know how he would have fared without his Nightmare King.



Once awake, Jack healed quicker, though not as quick as he would have if his powers were completely intact. The damage done to his staff greatly affected the rate at which he was getting better, and he’d shown no interest in repairing the crook. Pitch remained a fixture in the room, a sentinel over Jack’s recovery. Now that Jack was awake, he spent less time under the bed and more time by the boy’s side. Jack never slept. This was starting to trouble the Guardians, who felt rest was essential to Jack’s recovery. Pitch knew, however, what kept the youngest member of the group awake: nightmares. Nightmares that Pitch couldn’t protect him against. The mind never ceased to amaze Pitch, how it could create its own prison where the prisoner is also the warden. It truly interested Pitch, but at the same time confounded and infuriated him. Penetrating Jack’s mind had never been so tempting, but he wouldn’t. On some levels, it was possible that he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

The twit had arrived to remove Jack’s arm from its sling. This was the final noticeable wound from the attack. All other scratches, bruises, and blemishes had either scabbed over or disappeared completely. Jack bore few scars. Physically, at least. 

His forearm was completely wrapped in bandages. Since Pitch had spent most of his time under the boy’s bed, he hadn’t disturbed or seen the twit’s medical handiwork. When she removed the gauze on his still broken arm, Pitch had to clench his fists and grit his teeth. He steeled his facial expression to the point that he could feel every muscle in his body freeze. The boy’s arm was covered with dark red, deep incisions where one of the beasts had bitten and shaken him so hard that that very well may have been the reason for his arm having broken. The scenario played in Pitch’s mind involuntarily, imagining the strength behind the bite force, the beast shaking its head as its teeth sank further into the pale flesh, the motion helping in the creature’s attempt to better grip the arm in its filthy mouth, the bruises that must have formed as a result of them holding Jack down to effectively render the limb useless, the boy’s throat going raw from screaming . . . .

Pitch became aware of the speed at which he was breathing, his nostrils flaring as he willed himself to stop thinking about it. He looked at Jack’s face, noting how the boy watched every move the twit made. To her credit, she wasn’t flitting about at the speed of light. She was keeping herself slow and composed, making it easier for him to follow her actions. She knew the importance of that. That impressed Pitch on some level. 

Cleaning the wound was easy, though. Wrapping it proved a challenge. Pitch watched as panic snapped to life on Jack’s face as soon as the twit moved to tighten the gauze on Jack’s arm. The winter spirit would’ve yanked his arm from her if he’d had the strength to do so. The pain kept him firmly planted in the corner, shaking immensely and breathing rapidly at the sensation of something tightening around his flesh. Before Pitch knew what he was doing, he reached for the gauze in the twit’s hand. He wasn’t surprised when she jumped at his approach. One could only get so used to an enemy lurking about.

“May I?” He supposed asking first may have been a better tactic. It might’ve saved the bird a heart attack, but since when did he care for her well-being? Jack was who he was concerned for, and the boy was cowering on a bed and unable to properly defend himself.

“Of course.” 

She handed the bandaging to him hesitantly, watching carefully as he got closer to Jack. The boy’s eyes were wide with fright as Pitch gently loosened the loops the twit had already made on his forearm. Pitch ignored the bird’s watchful gaze as he made eye contact with Jack. “Do you trust me?” he whispered so that only Jack could hear.

The boy gulped, trying to regain some semblance of composure. When he nodded, Pitch offered him a small smile, the slightest quirk of the lips so that the twit wouldn’t notice too readily what the exchange had been. The boy relaxed a little more as Pitch slowly and gently wrapped the wound, the bandage snug but not tight enough to cause the boy to panic. When Pitch was finished, he moved aside once more so the bird could continue her work.



The first time since waking Jack fell asleep he woke up sweating after a bad dream. He’d simply been too exhausted to continue without rest, and trying to appear healthier than he felt in front of the Guardians was a challenge. Now he was paying for the façade. He wanted to scream, tucking his uninjured hand against his chest as he tried scooting further from the edge of the bed. His heart sped up even more when his back pressed against a warm body. He tensed, fighting the lump in his throat preventing his voice from functioning as it should. When the body shifted to accommodate Jack’s movement, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was only Pitch. Jack tried to calm down, settling against the Boogeyman’s warmth as a gray hand rested tentatively on his bare waist.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m panicking at everything.”

“If you weren’t, I’d be even more concerned for your health.”

Jack wanted to smile at that, but had found it harder to seem happy when there was so much to be afraid of. He wanted to close his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to inspect every inch of the room for danger, but the only thing worse was confronting the images in his head. He didn’t want to remember the attack. Remembering it was too painful, and he wasn’t ready to relive the incident. He wasn’t strong enough.

Pitch’s warmth was helping, though. Jack touched the hand resting on his waist and pulled it around him, lacing his pale fingers through the long, dark ones. Pitch pulled him closer, humming a little against the back of Jack’s head. Jack sighed again, daring to let his eyes shut as he drew comfort from having the Nightmare King at his back. He felt safer this way. He felt protected.

“I don’t like seeing their faces,” Jack admitted. “You would think knowing who did this to me would make this easier. It doesn’t. It just gives me something to fear.” Pitch breathed against his hair, his fingers twitching just the slightest bit between Jack’s own. Jack knew that feeling a little too well. “What are you thinking?” The Boogeyman didn’t answer. “More to the point, what have you done?”

Pitch sighed. “If I told you that you need not fear encountering those things again, would that ease your mind?”

“You didn’t . . . .”

“What did you think I was going to do while you were unconscious?”

“How?”

Pitch thought for several seconds before he answered. “They bled to death.”

Coming from Pitch Black, that could mean the perpetrators died any number of ways. Jack thought it best not to ask. “And the Guardians know?”

“The twit condoned it.”

“You mean Tooth?” This surprised Jack more than the fact that Pitch had killed for him.

“She harbors an old grudge against your attackers. They stole from her something most precious to her. They almost succeeded in doing the same to me, and I wasn’t going to let them live after that.”

Jack rolled over slowly, paranoid even though his injuries had almost completely healed. He scooted up on the bed so that he was facing Pitch. “I’m precious to you?”

“I just told you I killed two individuals with the permission and support of your goody-two-shoes friends, and that’s what you take from it?” Before Jack knew what was happening, he chuckled at Pitch. The sensation almost felt foreign to him because he hadn’t felt up to feeling anything resembling mirth after his experience. He wanted to hide it, but the look that passed over Pitch’s face rendered him incapable of stopping. “There’s my Jack.” A large hand crept up and cupped Jack’s cheek. The boy neither panicked nor pulled away. “I knew he was in there somewhere.”

Jack pressed his face closer to Pitch’s palm, still smiling. “You told me once you’d kill any who tried to hurt me. I should’ve probably guessed that promise extended past the Guardians.”

“Probably. It still astounds me that you actually do listen to some of the things I say.”

“Used to being ignored, aren’t we?” Both seemed saddened by the thought. It was true for both of them. They were more accustomed to being ignored than being paid any sort of attention.

Pitch pressed his forehead to Jack’s, closing his eyes briefly. When he spoke, he opened them again. “You realize how closely I’m going to be monitoring your movements from now on?”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t stalk me at least a little bit.”

“I do not stalk.”

“Yes you do.” The Boogeyman’s smile was enough to make Jack kiss him. Pitch was surprised at first, but soon he was pulling Jack closer to him and deepening the kiss. When the two finally came up for air, Jack said, “Not having a shirt reminds me of June. When I’m not too busy being scared of everything that moves, that is.”

“I may have to find you a shirt before long. You still know how to tempt me.”

“I can honestly say that I’m not trying to tempt you.”

“I know. That’s what’s frustrating me.” Pitch and Jack lay entangled in each other for a long while before Pitch spoke again. “I don’t like not being the one who makes you scream. I refuse to let this happen again.”

Jack thought about what Pitch said for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure how I should take that. You have a weird way of phrasing things, but I think you may have just told me you don’t want anyone aside from you scaring me.”

“I do hope you take it as me saying I care for you on a level that makes me a threat to anyone who so much as looks at you in a manner that frightens you.”

“I would’ve accepted you simply telling me you care for me. Isn’t that easier?”

“No.” The sullenness in Pitch’s tone made Jack wonder just how hard it really was for the Boogeyman to express his feelings. Some forms of intimacy were easier for him to show. This sort of intimacy was proving difficult for him. In a way, Jack understood. It was hard admitting that you cared. It left one feeling extremely vulnerable and open to attack. Pitch certainly wasn’t the sort to feel confident in the face of his own fears, and the Guardians knew Pitch’s fears were great enough to warrant him being dragged away by his own kind. Jack pulled him closer, hoping the Nightmare King knew that Jack understood his answer. Pitch returned the embrace. Then he changed the subject. “I will have to withhold on making you scream.” 

“Afraid so. Maybe you’ll find a new game to torture me with.”

“Torture is not the goal. Just a pleasant side effect.” The two smiled, holding onto each other. Jack could continue arguing, but he was too busy enjoying Pitch’s warmth.

This, more than anything, made Jack feel like himself again.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be writing a few more fics following Jack's recovery and how Pitch deals with the problems this attack has brought up between the two. So far, they are really helping each other out. Things might get rocky up ahead though, because I'm a sinister person with an arsenal of tea to help me function. It'll be a while before the big bad rears his ugly head again. When he does, you'll know. Right now, it's all about the relationship.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading. I'd hug you all if I could. Your comments bring so much joy to my days and continue to encourage me to write.


End file.
